


to the rhythm of the raindrops

by Molnija



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (unfortunately), Canon Compliant, Crushes, Karaoke, M/M, Mathematics, Poor Yahaba, Pre-Relationship, Rain, the word 'embarrassing' and all its forms come up a lot, watari is there if you count text messages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 08:37:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13566855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molnija/pseuds/Molnija
Summary: This is all Watari's fault, but even though he absolutely does want to strangle him, Shigeru may have to thank him, too.





	to the rhythm of the raindrops

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShitabuKenjirou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShitabuKenjirou/gifts).



> honestly I just suddenly felt like hurling some gifts at Em's head and this is what I ended up with. not sure where that feeling came from but praise the Yahashira overlord
> 
> they're so incredibly dumb and would probably be lost without Watari & Kawanishi. but that's nothing new ...
> 
> writing this made me feel a lot of things. some of them were anger as I was channeling my inner intense hatred of mathematics. I'm sorry, Yahaba, I swear I'll write you something nicer someday

_Tap, tap_ , goes the rain on the window next to him, _tap, tap_ , thick drops thrumming against the glass in a nonsensical rhythm that wants to be a song but is failing miserably.

It’s an adequate background noise for what he’s feeling when staring at his math textbook and attempting to decipher what the hell it’s trying to tell him. Shigeru likes to think of himself as smart, but polynomial division wants him dead. It’s been three hours since he came to the library and two since Oikawa had to leave, which means he’s been left on his own just when he thought his upperclassman’s explanations were getting him somewhere.

Now it’s all been wiped from his brain, his pen is running out of ink, his notebook is dangerously close to being filled completely, and he still doesn’t understand shit.

He’s tucked away in a remote corner of the Aoba Johsai library, hidden between bookshelves in the English section, where nobody can find him but the ongoing terrors of math. Math always tracks you down. Math is watching you, waiting for just the right moment to strike, and then attacks you with an onslaught of numbers and letters and symbols he swears they didn’t talk about in class.

Shigeru groans and lets his head drop onto the table. It hurts, but not as much as the rest of his head already does. Trying to deduce this has made his entire brain into a throbbing mess.

He’s going to dream of this, isn’t he? He won’t even be free in his sleep, will he?

His phone buzzes and when he checks it, it’s a message from Watari. _you done studying?_ he asks, and if Shigeru is being completely honest he meant to not leave before he’s ready for the upcoming test, but this isn’t getting him anywhere. He can still go over it at home or tomorrow, maybe another one of the third years can help him. He thinks Iwaizumi is pretty good at math.

 _Sure_ , he writes back.

_karaoke then?_

Shigeru looks out of the window, where the schoolyard of Seijoh is being pretty much flooded and there’s no sign the rain will die out anytime soon. He didn’t bring an umbrella and their usual karaoke bar is on the other end of town. And of course his head is killing him, which makes pretty much everything not fun that isn’t laying down and wallowing in self-pity. He really, really doesn’t want to go.

But he did promise this to Watari, and he can’t break that promise right now. He’s been going on about this for weeks, and he _is_ his best friend …

_Meet there in 30?_

Watari replies with a thumbs-up emoji. It looks so obnoxiously smug he wants to throw his phone against the wall.

There’s nothing worse than continuing to study this though, so it’s still a bit of a relief to pack up his things and shove math deep into his bag. He makes extra sure to bury it under more pleasant subjects so it won’t come out and attack him at night. Yes, he absolutely believes math would do that. It always finds ways to ruin his life.

When he’s at the front door, the rain is still going strong. This morning, they said there was no way it was going to rain, and now here it is anyway, because rain doesn’t care what meteorologists think and has arrived just on time to ruin Shigeru’s day even further.

“Fuck you, rain,” he mutters and steps outside.

 

* * *

 

Watari isn’t at the karaoke place.

Another person he knows very well is, though.

“What are you doing here?” It’s less of a question and more of a demand, nothing unusual from Shirabu Kenjirou, who is sitting on the couch with crossed arms and the scowl specifically reserved only for Shigeru on his face.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Shigeru replies and points at the door of the booth Watari said he’d gotten them. Watari, of course, is a filthy liar and he probably should have known, considering he said just yesterday that he isn’t even free today.

“Waiting for Taichi. He reserved this booth for the two of us, so fuck off.”

Ah. The infamous Watari-Kawanishi combination. How do they fall for it every time?

Shirabu seems to notice it just a heartbeat later, as the scowl falls away and his eyes widen in realisation, and he whispers, “That jerk.”

“Well, then …” He wants to say he’s going to leave, but his headache has finally stopped and if he goes home, he’ll have no excuse for not studying again. Also, he didn’t come all this way just to turn back around. He’s completely soaked, and he won’t leave before he dries up again at least a little bit.

It’s probably a miserable sight and one he doesn’t want to give Shirabu the opportunity of seeing, but it’s too late anyway.

“Before you ask, I’m not leaving. I paid for this, I’m getting my money’s worth.” Ah, so he’ll hear Shirabu sing? That could be interesting.

Shigeru takes off his blazer and sits down on the couch across from him. For a moment, they sit there in awkward silence, before Shirabu asks, “You’re staying?”

“Of course I’m staying, I’m not missing this.” It’s supposed to be a taunt, but it sounds weak. It usually ends like this when they’re alone – after a while, light hostility fades for something much more terrifying.

Watari knew exactly what he was doing, setting Shigeru up with his crush. If he asks him about it tomorrow, he’ll probably spout some grand bullshit about how if Shigeru can’t get a date, he’ll just have to do it for him. The sad thing is that he’s completely right. It took him a few months to even admit to himself that what he feels for Shiratorizawa’s setter isn’t their usual team rivalry or even a general personal dislike, and like hell is he going to act on it. This’ll go away eventually. It’s just a stupid little crush.

Just … A stupid little crush …

Shirabu is staring straight at the table with the smallest of blushes on his cheeks, likely more out of anger than anything else, but it still makes his heart want to explode.

He finds himself missing polynomial division quite a bit now. Maybe this is all a scheme set up by math to lure him back to it.

“So …” It’s Shirabu who speaks up first, which is probably a good thing. If he just has to retort, everything is going to be fine. “Are you going to sing or …”

Damn it. He has to sing.

Shigeru is pretty confident in his singing voice; he used to be in choir back in junior high and while he’s not the best, he at least hits the notes. But singing karaoke with Shirabu suddenly becomes much less inviting when he’s the one who has to perform.

“You start.”

“So you can make fun of me? No way.” At least it looks like he’s not alone in his troubles.

“What, are you scared?” He forces a taunting smile he copied from Oikawa, and even though he doesn’t have it down pat like his senpai, it seems to do its job just fine.

“No way,” Shirabu immediately replies and stands up with surprising fervour. “Watch me.”

He’s only just noticing that he’s not wearing his school uniform. Since he lives on campus and school is long over, it makes sense; Shigeru is only wearing his own because he didn’t have time to go home. It makes him feel a bit overdressed.

Shirabu heads to the top of the room and chooses a song from the clunky machine at the side. This place is pretty old, but the staff is really nice and you get free snacks, so he likes it. Not that he could eat any of these snacks right now, he’s surprised he can even talk.

The song displayed on the TV at the wall is one he swears he’s never heard of before, even though it’s from an anime he’s seen. Maybe it’s an insert song from an OVA he didn’t bother watching.

It starts and he wants to slap himself. It’s the opening. How stupid is he? Of course it’s the opening. He remembers getting annoyed by how the title didn’t suit the song.

He likes this song a lot though, so Shirabu picking it says great things about his taste. Of course, he could never like it as much as Shigeru, just like Shigeru likes all the things they both like much more than Shirabu could ever dream of. That’s just how life is.

It’s a pretty quiet, serene song, not what he would have expected him to sing – then again he doesn’t know what he _did_ expect.

Shirabu is making a huge effort looking at everything but Shigeru. It’s kind of comical how he stares _just_ past him, like the wall is his most important audience here. While he’s still burning with what he can only assume to be the intense desire to prove a point, his cheeks are coloured a deep red before he even starts singing.

Despite that, his voice only wavers a little bit when the vocals start.

It’s …

Really nice.

He secretly hoped he’d be terrible but that’s not the case at all. It’s clear he doesn’t get a lot of practice, but his natural voice is beautiful and his technique isn’t half bad. It suits the song, too, and Shigeru’s fingers dig into the damp fabric of his pants as he sits up straight and listens, half angry because _how dare he be this good_ and half ecstatic.

Suddenly, he’s very aware that they’re alone.

And that he’ll have to do the same thing.

How the fuck is he supposed to do the same thing?

The song ends on a quiet instrumental part and Shirabu’s score appears on the TV, a big red _97_ on a bright background where lemons are spinning in constant circles, and he immediately forgets all of his hesitations, stands up, and practically rips the microphone out of Shirabu’s hand.

No fucking way is he losing to him. 97 of 100 is a hard score to beat but that’s all the more incentive to blow him out of the water. _Just you wait, you stupidly talented jerk. I’ll score a perfect 100 and you’ll be begging for forgiveness. And my phone number._

“Think you can beat that?” Shirabu asks with a shit-eating grin.

“Fucking watch me.”

The rotation of songs changes every few months, but this one he’s familiar with. There’s a few songs he’s good at, including his all-time favourite, a Vocaloid song most people call obnoxious because they don’t have any taste.

Performance anxiety? Hesitancy in making an ass of yourself in front of your crush? Those things don’t exist when you have to _win_.

He makes a point out of staring Shirabu down when the song begins with an acapella section he absolutely nails. To his credit, his opponent slash crush slash annoying rival person isn’t backing down for once, though he looks like he wants to.

The lyrics are a jumbled mess of words that aren’t supposed to make sense, but the video to it was all about a day in the life of a seriously unlucky schoolgirl. He may not be a schoolgirl, but considering his life right now, he has the unlucky part down pat.

Shigeru strolls through the room as far as the microphone allows it, settling in front of Shirabu with the biggest smile he can manage while still singing, like an idol on a stage surrounded by thousands of penlights and a screaming audience.

Shirabu is still not looking away, but his cheeks are about as red as Shigeru’s own feel and he’s demonstratively grabbing the bowl of chips from the table without breaking eye contact, as if to say _whatever, I’m only here for the food_ , even though he knows that’s not true.

Eventually he goes back to his old place and dances along with the song, finally ending on a long high held note that’s just barely still in his range, and he’s panting by the time the music fades out.

_Ha. Take that._

Shirabu stares past him at the screen for a moment, blinking rapidly, before saying, “97.”

“What?”

“You got 97.”

No way. He did _not_ —

A look back reveals that Shirabu isn’t lying to him. _97_ , the screen is saying, accompanied by stupidly happy background music. How can he be happy if they tied? Where was the point in doing any of this? He was definitely better than Shirabu, so how?

Well, in the end it only matters how many notes you hit correctly, but …

“I want a rematch,” he demands instantly.

“What, so you can do more dumb stuff like this? You’re embarrassing.”

 _Ouch._ “Just because _you_ can’t _appreciate_ that doesn’t mean it was stupid.”

“It was, though,” Shirabu mutters and looks at the bowl of chips with a pout that doesn’t help convince him he’s telling the truth. “I mean, Taichi reserved this place for three hours, we still have time to kill.”

“ _Three hours_?” he repeats in an embarrassingly high pitch. “Are you kidding me?”

“He said he likes karaoke so it usually takes some time.” No way, this isn’t Kawanishi’s handwriting though. This just screams Watari.

Who he’s going to kill tomorrow, by the way.

“Three hours are more than enough to kick your ass at karaoke,” is what he ends up saying, and it’s not a lie. He’s not settling on a tie, no way.

“Don’t you have anything more important to do?”

Uh, yes, technically. The test he was studying for is on the day after tomorrow. But he’s not leaving before he wins. “Unless you wanna help me study math, no.”

Something gleams up in Shirabu’s eyes and his lips spread into a condescending smile. “You need help with math? How cute.”

“That’s … That’s not what I said!” he stammers out, cheeks heating up, both out of embarrassment and because … He knows it’s an insult, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t feel like melting over being called cute by him.

“I mean, I could help you … But why would I?” Shirabu asks in that voice that indicates he’s feeling quite on top of things right now. No way is Shigeru letting math get held over him like this.

“I don’t need your help,” he says, though to be fair, if Shirabu is any good at math, he probably does need his help. “I just wanted to go over some things before the test, to make absolutely sure.”

“Is that so? Then I’m sure you can show me right here, right now. You’ve got your bag with you and all.”

Oh, he hates him. He hates him so much.

But he also can’t deny this, because that would mean admitting he has no clue what the fuck he’s doing.

Maybe spite will make him suddenly be good at polynomial division. Wouldn’t be the first time his pettiness has gotten him further than he’d have dared hope.

He sits down on the sofa and digs for his study materials in his bag. Thankfully it’s water-proof or else everything would be soaked now. “You don’t know me,” he mutters as he picks out a task that looks at least a little bit easier than the rest.

That task is a piece of shit liar.

He doesn’t know how much time passes until he comes to a solution that technically shouldn’t even be possible, but eventually he pushes his notebook over to Shirabu, praying to every god he can spontaneously think of that he at least got parts of it right.

Shigeru watches him intently as his eyes scan the paper, a frown appearing on his face after a while and growing increasingly deeper until he’s slowly shaking his head with what can only be described as an expression of pure, unadulterated bewilderment.

When he looks up at him again, that expression is still in place. “I was hoping to be able to make fun of you, but this … This is just sad.”

Shigeru slams his hand on the table and leans forward, his heart racing. “It’s because you put me on the spot!”

“You didn’t even get the basic structure right,” he argues and points at the very first line. “Don’t they teach you _anything_ at Seijoh?”

“Oh, if you’re so good at this, why don’t you do it better then?” He sinks back into his seat and crosses his arms.

Shirabu only raises an eyebrow. “You do realise I got into Shiratorizawa by entrance exam, right? And that I’m smarter than you in any conceivable way?”

“I’m in a college prep class,” Shigeru shoots back, though he knows it’s a weak excuse. He’s in that class for many reasons, math isn’t one of them. Still, he’d like to believe he could best Shirabu when it comes to language and literature.

“Wow, your teachers must be really desperate if they let people like you into those.” He’s silent for just long enough that Shigeru is about to say something, but interrupts him before he can get past the inhale. “Change of plans. I’m not letting you out of here until you understand this. No way am I letting my rival fail that miserably.”

“Hold on, I’m your rival?” It’s true he’s always seen him like that from his own perspective; Shirabu is a second year setter like him, and both of them will be captains next year. But he didn’t think the feeling was mutual. He’s just on the bench, a pinch server if he’s lucky, while Shirabu gets to play as a regular. If anything, Oikawa should be his rival.

“Sure you are.” More quietly, though not quietly enough for Shigeru to overhear it, he adds, “That’s what Tendou-san said, at least …”

Well, if Shirabu’s offering, he can’t really say no, especially after failing so miserably. He hates that it has to be him of all people, but he does probably know his math … He only hopes he’s a decent teacher.

Shirabu stands up and walks around the table to settle down next to him.

Suddenly he’s aware of how small the couch actually is; it’s meant for two people but since the room is pretty small and most of it is dedicated to free space so people can pace around while singing, it feels like it isn’t. It’s very easy to forget about his feelings for this annoyance of a person … But it’s also very easy to remember them when they’re suddenly so close their shoulders are almost touching.

Can he have Oikawa back, please?

He has a hard time following Shirabu’s instructions as his attention keeps getting drawn back to him, how close their faces are when he leans forward to point at something on the worksheet, how cute the expression he makes is when he gets annoyed that he doesn’t understand something, how remote the booth has started feeling with just the two of them …

Despite that, after what feels like a millennium, he starts getting the hang of it.

His head is hurting again but he doesn’t mind it that much this time around, because with someone else here to explain things instead of just having to figure things out on his own, he actually feels like he’s making progress.

He’s run out of paper for real now so his worksheets from music class will have to do, and it’s on the back of an article about Beethoven that he first solves a problem entirely correctly.

Shirabu looks over it in silence, occasionally nodding to himself, and smiles – without the slightest hint of malice or sarcasm and it may be the most beautiful thing Shigeru has ever seen – when he reaches the end.

“Yes. Correct. Spacing looks good too. And you didn’t even need me to help you out.”

He turns his head and Shigeru turns his head and suddenly that all becomes insignificant when their faces are mere centimetres apart from each other.

Both of them are leaning in a bit, still used to doing so from looking at the paper. Shirabu’s eyes look really pretty this way, big and brown and much warmer than his attitude, and he thinks he can see very light freckles on his skin, fading along with summer.

They jump apart before anything else can happen.

What was that? What was _that_? Shigeru’s heart is pounding against his ribcage so hard he feels like it really wants to leave his body and go on a trip to America, never to return. Honestly, it’d probably be easier if it did.

Resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands is one of the things he’s done lately he’s rather proud of.

He only dares sneaking a side-glance at Shirabu, who is sitting there turned toward the door in what seems like a similar state to Shigeru. At least he can appreciate the fact that he’s equally as fazed.

Hold on, that’s a good thing, right? Maybe it’s just from embarrassment, but he wouldn’t react like that if he didn’t have at least some sort of interest in him, right?

 _Right_?

There’s an awkward silence hanging over them until he checks his phone just to have something to distract himself with and realises that their time is pretty much over.

“Uh, we have to leave,” he announces and it only sounds a little bit like he’s dying inside, which he notes down as a success.

“Oh,” is the only answer he ever gets before they clean up their stuff and head outside.

There weren’t any windows in the booth, but now that he’s standing in the foyer, he can see it’s still raining like crazy and he still doesn’t have an umbrella. His clothes have dried up by now, but he really isn’t looking forward to going through this again.

Shirabu, however, does have an umbrella, or at least he hopes the one he’s getting from the umbrella stand is his, otherwise he’d have just committed a crime.

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t ask. But first of all, he’s _not_ getting soaked again if he can help it, and second, sharing an umbrella with him after what happened there in the booth isn’t entirely out of the question. It’d be cute. He wants to have confidence his crush may be mutual.

“There’s only one bus station around, so I’m guessing you’re headed to that too?”

Shirabu looks at him like he’s a complete idiot. That’s a familiar feeling he can deal with. “Of course. Don’t be stupid.”

“Geez, I was just asking.” He runs a hand through his hair and stares out of the window, where the rain is still going strong, _tap tap_ , too much like in the library. “Because I kind of don’t have an umbrella.”

“You can’t do math, you can’t beat me at karaoke, you don’t even have an umbrella … Are you always this incompetent?” Shirabu holds up a hand to stop him from saying anything. “Don’t answer that, actually. It’d just be even sadder to see you deny it.”

Why does he like this guy again?

He’s right though, he never did beat him at karaoke. Curse you, math, for destroying his plans once again.

They step outside into the pouring rain and he notices how small Shirabu’s umbrella is – so small he has to stand extra close to him to not get wet.

It’s nerve-wracking. This was a terrible idea.

“I’ll get my revenge next time,” he says, mostly to distract himself from the impending danger of exploding.

“We’ll see about that.”

It takes him a few seconds to realise what he just said.

Shigeru said ‘next time’ without thinking about it much, but did Shirabu just … Agree?

“Friday? After I aced my test?” He’s only half serious, mostly trying to test his boundaries.

For some miraculous reason or maybe just because he may be right for once in his life, Shirabu nods. “Friday is fine. Same time.”

“It’s a date,” Shigeru mutters to himself, though loudly enough that the other definitely heard it. Even though it’s an ambiguous enough phrase, he definitely expects him to have some stupid retort or deny it or ask him to phrase it differently.

That retort never comes.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!
> 
> hq!! tumblr: akaashi-tooru.tumblr.com/ please yell with me about rarepairs (but not polynomial divison)


End file.
